


you make me feel (mighty real)

by paperbackmummy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - DJs, Alternate Universe - Record Store, Failwolf Friday, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbackmummy/pseuds/paperbackmummy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the tenth time of Laura sighing pointedly in the direction of Derek's meager record collection, Derek takes it upon himself to get her to shut the hell up but heading into the record store closest to campus; because it's not like he has anything to do, journals to submit to, classes to prep for, a social life to ignore.</p><p>AKA:<br/>The one where Stiles inadvertently tries to woo Derek with his record collection</p><p>AKA:<br/>A shamelessly self-indulgent record store/dj AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you make me feel (mighty real)

 

Laura nags, cajoles, and bitches but in the end it's the soft, "Please come home?" that gets him. Laura never asks, never says please. Derek figures working on his PhD at his hometown university is better than selling home security systems door to door in the shit-ass town he's exiled himself to and says, "Alright."

His homecoming is loud and joyful and tearful and did he mention, loud. The pack expanded while he was away. Laura found "the non-schmoopy sounding version of 'the one.'" Isaac, who's bitchy and sweet in equal measure, came with Boyd and Erica (or wouldn't come at all) but no one questioned it. Pack isn't something only werewolves feel.

He gets settled in at the university, in his shared office, in his new apartment.

 

("I'm 28 years old, mom. I'm not living at home," Derek says.

"It's good enough for Laura," His mom counters.

"Laura can't cook and likes how dad irons her clothes."

"Sometimes I wonder if you're a werewolf at all."

"Switched at birth!" Laura yells from the bathroom.

"An alien dropped you on our doorstep for safe keeping," His dad chimes in.

"Derek, there's something we need to tell you," Natalie says around a mouthful of Coco Dino Bites. "You're an android. But you made such a shitty Rosie the Robot, mom and dad took pity on you and raised you as their own son."

"I hate you all. You're not my family. Goodbye," Derek says from the driveway. He hears a chorus of "I love you" and he mutters an affirmation of the same.)

 

Laura harasses him into being her lesser half on her radio show. "The station's where I met Isaac," she says not at all dreamily and shoves Derek into a wall for daring to look at her with fondness. It's an odd time-slot, 2-4 on Saturdays, sandwiched between the Vietnamese show that's on from noon until two and Mundo Latino that has the pre-pre-pre-party time-slot of 4-6 - the kid's words, not Derek's. Scott, who does Mundo Latino solo, also has a prime slot on Fridays from 7-10 with his best friend, someone Derek - already two months back - hasn't met yet.

After the tenth time of Laura sighing pointedly in the direction of Derek's meager record collection, Derek takes it upon himself to get her to shut the hell up but heading into the record store closest to campus; because it's not like he has anything to do, journals to submit to, classes to prep for, a social life to ignore.

The place is bigger than he's expecting. It's the last store in a row that screams college town: music, art supply, cigarettes & cigars, used books, gyros; with no fewer than a dozen bars and sandwich shops visible from the front door. It makes Derek want to hang his head in defeat.

He opens the door and immediately has to wince at the volume level, _Cool Jerk_ blaring from the sound system. There's a guy on the upper level doing a complicated dance of shoulder shimmies, hand movements, and head bops, dusting the shelves with an honest to god feather duster and using it as a microphone.

"I'm looking for your international section," Derek calls up and the guy startles, flails - nearly taking off the head of a cardboard cutout of Tom Selleck - and almost falls down the stairs.

"Jesus, dude. I think my life just flashed before my eyes. Nothing to write home about." The guy shakes himself out then slides the rest of the way down the bannister.

"International section," Derek says again.

"Yeah, caught that the first time. Not really how we work. I mean, I'm all about the hunt so, upstairs you'll find anything with vocals and down here is all instrumental with a little cross over, naturally. Have at it." He holds his arms out wide and does a half turn.

"That doesn't even come close to being efficient." Derek makes his way through the rows and piles and boxes of records, overflowing and with no discernible order. Derek can't tell if the boxes are stacked waist high or if they're on low tables; it might be both.

The guy doesn't respond, just sings, "Let me be your rocking chair," emphatically as he slips behind the counter to switch out records before moving to the DVD rental section in the back. Derek's flipping through a frankly astounding amount of John Williams scored soundtracks when a disco beat and Anita Ward kicks in over the speakers. He gets lost for a minute watching the guy's watch slip down his wrist every time he does hand movements to the laser sound effects. Derek's pulled out of it by the guy belting out at the top of his lungs, "You can ring my bell, ring my bell!"

"Sorry," the guy calls out without prompting. "I got caught up. I'm Stiles by the way, welcome to my store." He does a twirl, arm wave thing and knocks a row of DVDs to the ground. He must be a menace on the dance floor, Derek thinks. He gets distracted by a strip of skin where the guy's - Stiles - shirt has ridden up and misses the part where a civilized person would offer their own name in response.

"Uh, Derek," He says well past a beat too late. Derek tucks his chin into his chest and huffs his way to the upper level. He quickly finds what Erica had asked him to pick up and an old beat up copy of _Jonathan Sings!_ for Laura that might not be in good enough shape to play anywhere but at home but will still please her. He already picked out _Greek Bells and Winter Festivals_ for himself. It's something he has a digital copy of but might like to have on vinyl. At the last second he decides to dig out a decent looking copy of _Off The Wall_ for Isaac. The gesture will make Laura happy and if Laura's happy maybe she'll get off his case for five damn minutes.

It isn't until Derek's at the front counter that he realizes he has something for everyone but Boyd and his little sister. Natalie can buy her own damn records but he feels like an asshole if he leaves out Boyd, even though Erica paid him and Laura's his sister and isaac's his sister's boyfriend and those were selfish reasons.

"I need something for a friend," Derek says when Stiles steps around to the other side of the counter.

"Sure. What kind of friend?" Stiles asks and Derek knows his own face probably doesn't hide his incredulity.

"What the hell kind of question is that?"

"The kind that tries to suss out sentiment without straight up asking if it's for someone you currently are or want to be dating, sexing up, or otherwise romantically involved with. Tone matters, man."

"Just a friend of the family." Derek can feel the tips of his ears heating up and it's mortifying.

"Right this is what I call my essentials box. Something in here should work." Stiles hefts up a box onto the counter and a quick thumb through shows it has a little bit of everything.

"I... Everyone likes the Beatles, right?" Derek is totally at a loss. He doesn't know as much about Boyd and Erica and Isaac as he should. He's only been home two months, but they accepted the bite nine mons ago, had been pack for longer. The shame makes his blood run cold and he wants to bolt but he knows he can't, that everyone - himself included - would be disappointed; this is why he came back.

"It's for my sister's boyfriend's best friend," Derek blurts out before he can clamp his mouth shut. 

"That's a mouthful," Stiles snorts, then his eyes widen and a blush blooms just below his cheekbones. Derek knows if he wanted to he could sniff out what Stiles is thinking, feeling, but Stiles is a stranger and that would be rude; helpful but rude. So he won't, but it's tempting.

"His name's Boyd. Do you -"

"Oh, Boyd! No, this is not the box you want." Stiles bends over to look through a crate under the counter and Derek forces himself to look away. He needs to leave before he embarrasses himself.

"Here." Stiles slaps the sleeve on the counter and inspects the record for scratches.

"Sylvester," Derek reads. He has no idea who that is. 

"Trust me. He'll love it. I played it on my show and he's been begging me to find him a copy ever since. For values of beg when it's Boyd we're talking about. I actually had it set aside to give him next time I saw him. Now you can." Stiles slides the record into the sleeve, his long fingers cradling the vinyl like it's precious.

"You have a show?" Derek finally manages to say.

"Yeah, at seven after Femme Fridays."

"You're Scott's best friend." Derek nearly sounds accusing, for some reason god only knows.

"Guilty. Okay, Derek who's sister is Laura hale, yeah I could trace that back, what have you got? No, no wait lemme guess." Stiles closes his eyes and puts the record closest to him up to his forehead.

"You won't guess."

"Oh, I might."

"Doubt it."

"Please. You have..." Stiles cracks open one eye, gets a look at the album in his hands then opens the other. "Speed metal, Jonathan Richman, death metal, Michael Jackson, black metal... _Greek Bells and Winter Festivals_. Seriously, dude?" 

Stiles smirks and his eyes fucking twinkle. Derek needs to get the hell outta dodge.

"Shut up and take my money." Derek holds out a handful of bills he hasn't even counted.

"But I have an _Empire Records_ joke all lined up." Stiles laughs but he does take Derek's money gleefully and makes Derek promise to check out his show on Friday. Derek barely gives Stiles a chance to finish his sentence before saying yes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I ALMOST titled this Wrecka Stow but changed my mind at the last second. You're welcome. Or I'm sorry? wateva wateva
> 
> Also, this part can stand alone but is the first of several chapters which sadly makes this a WIP. But it should be done soon.
> 
> Also: part deux, I can't actually promise all albums mentioned have ever been on vinyl. ARTISTIC LICENSE?!


End file.
